Oblivion
by SummerStarWatcher
Summary: He meant so much to her, but it's too late now.


Once upon a time you were all I ever wanted. But times change, and so do people, and that's not how the world works any more. I taught myself to exist without you, even though sometimes it's still hard to breathe when I think of you.

I see you there, talking to her like you used to talk to me, gravitating to her as though she is your world. I feel your pull on me strengthen and I harden my heart, walking away when all I want to do is run back into your arms.

It's not fair, I want to cry. Not fair that she's yours, and you're hers, while I am sitting in the darkness, all alone. Not fair for you to be so happy, not fair for you to have forgotten everything we used to be. She has taken my spot, more completely than I ever could have imagined, and there's no going back now. All I can do is move on, look forward and upward and out, dream that one day I won't feel like this anymore.

It seems so hopeless, that I will ever be able to forget this hole in my heart, be able to move past the shadow that hangs over me. I needed you, so much, and it's not something that I can just snap my fingers and stop, no matter how much I may wish it would work like that.

You have moved on so completely that you don't even look at me anymore, and I try not to notice and try not to let it hurt me but it does, it does, and it feels like there will be no escape from the pain.

Sometimes I wonder if there is any other option, any other solution than just waiting for the end. No, not waiting. Searching. Searching for the end to all of this pain, all of this misery. Seeking it out and praying that the courage would find me.

Should I do it? I don't know. Will things get better? I don't know. Do I want to try? That, I do know, and I know that I can't bear trying to pretend that it doesn't bother me for one single more minute.

And so I take a deep breath, and look down at the grounds far, far below me, and brace myself. I take one last look at the sky, think of your face one last time, and tense my legs to jump.

And that's when I hear your voice behind me, almost like a dream.

"Don't do it," you say, and I turn and it's really you, you're really there, and I'm gripped by the sudden urge to leap into your arms and let you assure me that everything will be alright.

But that's not how the universe functions, and there is no more hope.

Still, I hesitate, and you take a step forward.

"Please, Rosie," your voice breaks. "I've been an idiot, and I'm so, so sorry, and I need for you to forgive me and come back to me because I need you. Please."

It's as if all my dreams have come true, all my wishes for what feels like forever have finally been granted. There you are, face twisted in guilt and anxiety, begging me to come back to you.

And I want to, I so dearly want to give in and let you fix everything.

But I know that I've been broken beyond repair now, though, and things will never be okay again. Even if you're telling the truth, and even if you need me, I can't be that person any more. Even if you never left me again, I would still be fractured, split through the middle because of this.

There is no hope.

It will never get better.

I know that now.

So I turn back, look out at the night sky (for the last time, really), take a deep breath, ignore your screams and protests, and jump.

The air rushes past me, the sickening lurch in my stomach of falling, and suddenly I'm laughing, laughing at the world that thought it could trick me. Because I finally understand what everyone should be told at birth.

None of it is real.

And none of it matters.

And then I think to myself, "this isn't so bad," and right then I hit the ground, and the world explodes into pain. And just as I'm thinking that perhaps the tower wasn't quite high enough, blackness closes over my head, and I slip away from reality.

The last image in my mind is not of a face, his or hers or mine, but rather of the sky, clear and dusted with crystal-bright stars.

There are far worse ways to die.


End file.
